


unmaking/remaking

by delgay



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, F/F, Guns, Season 5 AU, Vague Descriptions of Physical Torture, brain washing, typical Samaritan BS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delgay/pseuds/delgay
Summary: That's what it is: muscle memory. Muscle memory is the reason that Sameen grabs Root by the shoulders the next time she sees her and kisses her until her head swims and it's like being Unmade but without the needles, without scalpels or restraints.
Relationships: Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Comments: 18
Kudos: 112





	unmaking/remaking

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote years ago and found on my phone from when I was obsessed with Person of Interest, probably in 2015 pre-season 5. I thought there was something short/sweet/imperfect here worth posting, because I will love these two forever and ever.

Sameen wraps a steady hand around the intruder’s throat, pressing and squeezing the woman into the wall.

The woman gasps for air, thrashes, wraps her polished fingers around Shaw’s wrist. “Sam,” she croaks. “Sam, please.”

Shaw is a yard away before the woman can say anything else. She sees her gasping, coughing, and rubbing at her throat. Shaw would probably be able to hear her if it weren’t for the sound of her own erratic breathing. She wants to reach for her gun, wants something to anchor her, but her hands are shaking too much. She can’t see anymore. When she blinks, her cheeks are stained hot.

When the haze clears, she sees Root. It feels like coming up for air and drowning all at once. Root takes a step forward, then another.

“Stay away from me!” someone says, again and again and again. Around the fifth time, Shaw realizes it’s her. 

“Sameen,” Root whispers. “Sameen, I never stopped looking, I knew–”

Shaw hasn’t felt this way–- so open, raw, bloodied, thin–- since she was Unmade. Since she was Unmade and Remade by something much larger and wilder than she could have ever comprehended. “Stay back,” she hisses through gritted teeth.

“No,” Root says. Her voice shakes. “No!” Her shout feels like Unmaking. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

Shaw steps forward and swings her fist, but Root is much faster than she used to be. She twists Shaw’s arm behind her back like it’s nothing, until their bodies are pressed together. 

There’s only enough time for two harsh breaths before Shaw presses forward. She bites Root’s mouth before she licks at it, trying to get closer and closer still. Shaw doesn’t know if she’s ever felt like this; no, she couldn’t have. This would have already torn her apart. 

And Root presses back. Nails scrape Shaw’s neck and her shoulder, and Shaw uses her newly free hands to grip at the small of Root’s back. Shaw steals Root’s breath and holds onto her until she thinks she can stand on her own. How long that lasts, Shaw can’t say. The moment is completely suspended and untouchable by time. 

Then, it’s over. Shaw rocks back and out of Root’s arms, out of her reach. She takes only one glance at Root’s wide, dark eyes before she makes herself disappear out the back entrance of the building. 

One look. Shaw knows that’s all she can ever have from now on. 

“I heard you ran into an old colleague,” Grier says upon Shaw’s return. 

Shaw stands straight and firm. “Yes, sir,” she replies. 

Grier looks at her with a calculating eye. “I trust she gave you a bit of trouble.”

Shaw has no trouble keeping his gaze. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she tells him. 

“Is she eliminated?” he questions. 

“No. She wasn’t in the plan.”

“You’re right. You’ve done well, Sameen.”

Sameen nods, recognizing the dismissal. She turns to leave. 

Before she makes it out the door, Grier states, “Next time you see her, bring her to me. It’s about time she and I caught up with one another.”

Shaw only pauses for the briefest moment before she continues her exit.

Shaw can fire a weapon like it's nothing. She can have a gun out, safety off, and fired before most people could even blink. It's something that she hasn't thought about it-- hasn't _had_ to-- in a very long time. It's complete muscle memory. 

And that's what it is: muscle memory. Muscle memory is the reason that Sameen grabs Root by the shoulders the next time she sees her and kisses her until her head swims and it's like being Unmade but without the needles, without scalpels or restraints.

It still hurts all the same, and Sameen only pulls back when one more second would tear her to shreds.

Root's mouth is still open once they separate, bottom lip swollen pink and slick from Sameen's mouth. Her eyes are wide, too, unblinking. Like she's seen a ghost. 

And maybe that's what Shaw is. She's thought about it more than once; that maybe Samaritan just killed her, and this is nothing but her own personal hell. Doing Samaritan's bidding and touching Root and never ever really feeling her. 

Sameen runs, because that's all she can do. Because if she stands there too long, she'll remember exactly what she is now. If she keeps standing there, she'll have to take Root. 

After, Shaw implanted the network with no issues, and the cameras after that. Even though she knew the building had yet to be bugged, that this was the first infiltration, she couldn't be sure. She couldn't be sure that Samaritan hadn't seen her with Root. 

During her debriefing with Grier, she tries to determine whether or not he knows. If he does, he doesn't let on. He treats her exactly as normal, and sends her on her way. 

It doesn't mean a thing, though. Grier has always been one to keep his cards close to his chest. Sameen knows if he revealed them, it would be at a moment that would devastate her most. A moment that would surely be her last. 

Hers, and Root's. 

The next time Shaw crosses Root's path, she acts like she hasn't seen her. She uses her Samaritan training to disappear, even as Root chases after her. Shaw pulls herself up into the dusty rafters and watches as Root searches in vain until someone finds her. It's Reese. He gently takes Root by the arm and nudges her towards the exit. 

Sameen allows herself five minutes in the rafters before she climbs down to continue the mission. 

Shaw had often used Root as a distraction. A damn good one, too. Fucking her made Shaw feel less empty, somehow. Shaw didn't have to pretend in front of Root, or act like she wasn't different. She was, Root knew it, and she didn't care. It had never deterred Root one bit. 

There was one time that Shaw thought about a lot in the time when she was being Unmade. One of the only memories that made it possible for her to hold on for as long as she did.

They had been in Beijing, running one of the Machine's "Won't Tell, Don't Ask" missions. The night before they were due to infiltrate one of the highest security buildings in the world, they stayed in a hotel that was outrageously and unnecessarily tall and looked over the entire city. 

"The Machine couldn't spring for two beds, huh?" Sameen commented as they entered, throwing her duffle bag in the direction of the closet. 

Root scoffed. "Please, Sameen. She isn't naive enough to think we actually bother sleeping in separate beds anymore," she replied, plopping down on the edge of the bed to pull her boots off.

"Only out of convenience," Shaw stated, shrugging her jacket off, "Make sure you tell her that. _Convenience_."

Looking up, Root smirked. "I don't have to. She's always listening, remember?" She said, tapping her right ear. 

Shaw grumbled as she removed the holster she had around her waist. "Your machine is a perv," she said.

"Pretty sure A.I.s don't have libidos, Sam. I think you're safe," Root quipped. She took her hand gun out of her waistband and stared at it for a moment, as if weighing it in her hand. 

"Libido or not, you gotta admit it's pretty creepy," Shaw insisted, finally down to her jeans and a white tank top. 

Root didn't comment, still looking at the gun before leaning over to shove the gun in the bedside table drawer. 

Shaw stared at Root, wondering why Root wasn't taking the bait. "Okay, now you're being the creepy one. You couldn't shut up almost the whole way here; what's got you so quiet?"

After a moment, Root asked, "You really wanna know?"

Shaw shrugged and walked over towards the mini bar. "I'll humor you, but just this once," she said, before bending down to open the mini fridge. She quickly selected a miniature bottle of whiskey and moved to sit on the bed a respectable distance from Root.

"You said that when you kill people, it doesn't bother you," Root began. 

Sameen didn't have to think about her answer. "Nope," she replied, twisting off the top of the bottle and taking a sip. It was nice and warm going down, and it was exactly what Sameen needed after a long day of travelling. 

"Me neither. Even after the Machine helped me understand the value of human life. She doesn't want me to kill people, so I don't unless I have to. But when I have to I just... Don't feel anything."

Sameen didn't say anything, just took a long pull from the little bottle. She'd need another in a minute. 

"Is that how you feel all the time?" Root asked. 

If it had been asked any other way, Sameen would have told Root to go fuck herself. What she'd managed to ask in a way that wasn't nonchalant, but wasn't particularly concerned either. An inquiry, nothing more. 

"Yeah," Sameen replied, "Unless I'm pissed off or hungry. Or horny."

Root laughs lightly before saying, "Harold doesn't understand, and She doesn't either. Probably because he made Her."

"Well, you know St. Harold," Sameen said, "Never met a life he didn't want to save."

"He makes me feel so guilty sometimes."

There was a feeling of understanding between them that made Shaw comfortable. She'd never been able to talk to anyone but shit like this before without fear of judgement. 

Root was like her in some ways and unlike her in a lot more, but Shaw felt as though she didn't have to worry. Root wasn't going to give her shit about it, and that felt good. 

"Stop being dramatic and take your clothes off," Sameen urged, tossing her now empty miniature liquor bottle to the side.

Root smirked and leaned towards Shaw instead, wrapping a hand behind her head and pulling Shaw in for a long kiss. It was a promise of more to come, and Shaw wanted more, now. She began stripping Root of the remainder of her clothing, unconcerned that she had been wearing them for over 24 hours straight. Showers could come later. For now, Shaw settled for kissing Root's collarbone, loving the harsh angle of it under her mouth. 

Sameen wasn't one for sentiment, and she doubted she ever would be. But as she and Root made each other come, again and again and again, she couldn't shake the feeling that she would never be able to forget this moment. 

Shaw had been right, of course. And no matter how much Grier tried to beat it out of her, she'd never be able to forget Root.

When Grier gives the order, Shaw is only surprised it didn’t come sooner.

"The Machine's operatives have been trying to undo all of the work we've accomplished here in Iran," Grier states, looking at Sameen directly. It's come time that we eliminate them once and for all."

"Yes, sir," Sameen says without feeling. 

Grier continues, "After the loss of Martine, I feared we would never be able to replace her. You have proved me wrong, Sameen. I am trusting you to lead the team on this. Your insight will be most useful."

"I don't remember much, sir," Sameen replies, "But I will determine an effective strategy."

"Very good," Grier nods.

After everything, many of Shaw's memories have dissipated. Partially because she forced herself to forget them when Martine first brought her in, and partially because when she was Unmade, Samaritan did everything in its power to sever her former allegiances. 

Shaw used to know who she was. She was an ex-Marine, a sociopath, a CIA operative gone rogue for the greater good. She was a no-nonsense, level-headed soldier. She was a meat-loving, bisexual dog enthusiast who preferred to be alone. These were tried and true facts that she'd never needed to question. 

Then, she was Unmade. All she knows now is that she works for Samaritan, she is a weapon, and she is expendable. 

It's only when she sees Root that she feels even a fraction like her old self, which is a kind of pain that Shaw has never experienced. 

And it all comes to this: Shaw with her gun pressed against Root’s forehead. Shaw, struggling to breathe as she takes in Root’s gaze, which is far more calm than any woman on the wrong side of a gun has any right to be.

“If you were going to kill me,” Root says slowly, “You would have done it already.”

Shaw’s hand tightens around her gun. “Shut up,” she hisses. “You knew it would end this way.”

Root smirks, then, and replies, “Actually, I thought we’d both be a lot more naked, but hey. I can work with this.” She presses her forehead further into the barrel. 

“Do it,” Root urges.

Shaw’s hand shakes. She’s always been a crackshot, never one to lose her nerve. But here she is, being Unmade all over again.

“No,” Shaw says.

“Do it,” Root repeats. “Do it, kill me, Sameen! Prove that you’ve turned. Prove to everyone what Samaritan can do. That it can make you kill someone who loves you.”

Shaw’s breath catches before she manages to swallow it down. “Don’t say that.”

“What?” Root presses. She’s emboldened; she’s effervescent. Her mouth is twisted into a smile that’s not completely kind. “That I love you?”

Sameen lowers her hand. “Don’t you ever say something so stupid again,” she replies, flipping her thumb over the safety before tucking it into her waistband. “Now, let’s get the fuck out of here before you start receiting a sonnet.”

Root’s eyes are shining as she grins and lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You awake now, sweetie?”

“Something like that,” Sameen allows, grabbing Root’s elbow and tugging her towards the nearest exit. “And don’t think it’s because of what you said. If I had to listen to another one of Grier’s boring speeches, I think it would have killed me.”

Sameen isn’t surprised when Root tugs her to spin her around for a kiss, quick and hot as lightning. “You’re going the wrong way,” Root says as she pulls away, looking down at Sameen in a way that she can’t read, but Root can’t stop smiling and tears are trapped in the corners of her eyes.

When Root turns her heel to head in the opposite direction, Sameen follows. It feels like Remaking.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if anyone is still reading/writing root/shaw in 2020 but if you are say HEYYY


End file.
